


History's Tale

by clutzycricket



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willas Tyrell decides that auditing this history class is possibly his best bad decision in a long line of bad decisions.  Mostly for watching the professor argue with pretty Sansa Stark.</p><p>Then things really get strange.</p><p>(One of those Monster OTP AUs from tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	History's Tale

Willas Tyrell was finding auditing this class very fruitful, just not in the way his therapist had planned.

Apparently the normal professor had needed to take a leave of absence, suddenly, and the new professor had done a complete change in the way the course was done, not expecting anyone to care.

Well, that hadn’t quite worked- out of twenty-five other students, four had dropped the first day, three more had followed, ten were miserable but too afraid to say anything, two were just mildly trolling the professor, five didn’t care, and one was Sansa Stark, who was apparently the Dean’s Darling and grimly determined to teach the adjunct professor about the War of the Roses.

(Willas had checked their respective sources, and tended to go with Sansa.)

It was helped by Sansa’s cool, slightly bemused manner, and Vance looking murderous. 

Eventually, of course, Sansa had caught him in an outright falsehood, and he’d sneered.

Willas, who decided sitting next to her was best, had made to intervene when Vance said, “Really, Miss Stark, someone would think that you were being fed this information.”

“Are you accusing me of being a spy?” Sansa asked, sounding honestly baffled. The trolls were looking up and grinning, but he noticed they were both between Sansa and Vance as well. He could probably aim his cane between the professor’s beet-red eyes if he made the leap he was threatening to make.

“How else would an undergraduate know this? The Lannister woman was right about you! My book is…”

Sansa raised a single hand. “Because I was there, perhaps?” There was, however, a faint tremor in her voice when she added, “Lannister woman?”

“Stop it,” he said, hands against his ears.

That’s when Sansa snarled, a rough sound that made  _every_  hair on Willas stand up. The red eyes and fangs were also very, very noticeable, though they seemed to be affecting the professor differently.

“Ah,” Dr. Vance said, being struck with the sudden need to sit down. “You were there?”

“Yes,” Sansa handwaved. “A bit before, really, but who wants to quibble?”

One of the students snickered, and Willas noticed her slight smile. 

Oberyn was going to laugh at him for missing this, he knew. He really, really was.

Class ended shortly afterwords, and Willas did Sansa the courtesy of waiting until they had drifted to a pleasantly secluded spot before sitting. 

“I take it that was not your first experience with vampires,” she said, swinging a leg over the stone bench.

“Ah, no,” Willas admitted. “If you’ve heard of the Red Viper…?”

Sansa perked up a bit at that. “Oh, yes. His reputation is a bit mixed, but he is better then _some_  I can mention.”

Willas frowned. “Can I ask what gave me away?”

“Your reaction,” Sansa said. “Not surprise, but basically… preparing to be bitten, is the best word. It means you were used to it. In a certain context.” And  _now_  she looked flustered.

“I can offer coffee first, at least?” he tried, because tact. Tact was something he was supposed to have. 

“Not dinner?” Sansa asked.

“I thought I  _ **was**_  dinner?” Willas asked, perhaps a bit too cocky for his own good, but it was a vice even the accident hadn’t rid him of. 

Sansa’s pale cheeks turned a faint, delicate rose.


End file.
